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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22531264">Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinybox/pseuds/tinybox'>tinybox</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>unreality_strikes_back.exe [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arguing, Childhood Friends, Computer Programming, Conflict of Interests, Crushes, Deja Vu, Literary References &amp; Allusions, Literature, Time Loop, Video &amp; Computer Games, Video Game Mechanics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:29:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,361</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22531264</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinybox/pseuds/tinybox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaito attends the Literature Club for the second time, and finds a shared interest in the same manga with Natsuki.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>unreality_strikes_back.exe [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619047</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>*Load</strong>
</p><p>Natsuki is rummaging around in the closet. "Ugh..." she grumbles to herself, letting out an exasperated sigh. </p><p>She seems to be annoyed at something- maybe she won't mind a little bit of help?</p><p>I approach her slowly, making sure that she can hear my footsteps so that I don't startle her. </p><p>"You looking for something in there?"</p><p>"Freaking Monika..." Natsuki mutters in annoyance. "She never puts my stuff back in the right spot! What's the point in keeping your collection organized if someone else is just going to mess it up?"</p><p>Natsuki slides a bunch of stacked books and boxes across the shelf. I can't help but notice that all of the books look like manga covers.</p><p>"You read manga, right?" Natsuki asks.</p><p>"Ah-Sometimes."</p><p>
  <em>All the time.</em>
</p><p>(Manga is one of those things where you can't admit you're really into it until you figure out where the other person stands.)</p><p>"...How did you know, anyway?"</p><p>"I heard you bring it up at some point. Besides, it's kind of written on your face."</p><p>"Oh, right."</p><p>Then the second sentence registers with me. </p><p>
  <em>What's that supposed to mean? Is it a compliment? An insult? Both???</em>
</p><p>"I-I...see."</p><p>(I really don't see, but I'm not going to tell Natsuki that.)</p><p> </p><p>There's a lone volume of manga amidst a stack of various books on the side of one of the shelves; I pull out the manga and ask, "Is this the one you're looking for?"</p><p>"<em>There </em>it is!" Natsuki says happily, snatching the book out of my hands before I can get a good glimpse at the cover. She then turns to the box of manga and slips the volume into the middle of the rest. "Aah, much better!"</p><p>For the first time, Natsuki turns to me, a smile on her face. "Seeing a box set with one book missing is probably the most irritating sight in the world."</p><p>"I know that feel-"</p><p>I get a closer look at the books she's admiring. </p><p>"Hey, is that the <em>Parfait Girls?", </em>I blurt out without thinking.</p><p>About five years ago, a classmate of mine gave me the book for a Secret Santa gift exchange. It was a tattered copy, and he later told me, in front of his jeering friends, that his little sister had thrown it away because she thought it was 'too babyish.'</p><p>When I unwrapped the gift, I was really embarrassed, and vowed to throw the thing in the trash. For some reason, though, at home I began flipping through the pages just for a laugh.</p><p>Almost immediately, I was hooked. </p><p>It's really embarrassing to admit that I love the series, seeing as it's way out of my demographic. Sure, there are cute girls as the main characters, but they aren't drawn in an overly sexual style. I haven't read them in years, though, not since...</p><p>Natsuki perks up. "You know them?"</p><p>"Yeah," I admit, a little sheepish. "I used to have my own collection of these books, just like yours. Mine were secondhand, though. Haven't read any of those books in ages."</p><p>Natsuki raises an eyebrow, looking a little peeved. "What, did you decide you were too grownup and <em>mature</em> for these kind of things?" </p><p>I shake my head, looking down at the ground. "Uh...well...it's kind of complicated."</p><p>"<em>Sure </em>it was," Natsuki says with a huff. "You guys are all the same. I bet some of your friends found out and you were too much of a wimp to admit you liked them."</p><p>"...Kind of."</p><p>"Hah! I knew it!"</p><p>"But it wasn't my friends who found my collection, it was my dad. He...um...burned the entire set. Took me out into the backyard, made me pour gasoline all over them, and had me watch as he burned all the books. He burned my sketchbook as well. Um...he moved out about a year ago, but I was kind of discouraged by then. I mean, I still draw and read manga, but... " </p><p>"..."</p><p>
  <em>Oh no, I made everything awkward. </em>
</p><p>"Well, where did you stop off?" Natsuki demands, hands on her hips.</p><p>"I honestly don't remember."</p><p>"Well, in that case," Natsuki says determinedly, "you might as well start over from square one!"</p><p>Natsuki takes out the first book from the box. "Don't just stand there!" she insists, dragging me by my arm out of the closet. "How are we supposed to talk about the series if you can't remember any of the important details?"</p><p>Letting go of my arm, she then takes a seat against the wall, beneath the windowsills. Natsuki pats the space next to her. </p><p>"Wouldn't chairs be more comfortable?" I ask, plunking myself down next to her.</p><p>Natsuki shrugs. "We can't read at the same time like that."</p><p>I nod in agreement. "Yeah, it's easier to see the pages if we're close like this."</p><p>Natsuki startles, her face flushing pink. "D-don't just say that! You'll make me feel weird about it!"</p><p>She then crosses her arms and scootches an inch away from me. </p><p>
  <em>Oh no, I <strong>really </strong>made everything awkward.</em>
</p><p>"S-sorry."</p><p>I didn't exactly plan on sitting this close to her, either...not that I can say it's a particularly bad thing.</p><p>For a moment, I run my hand over the familiar cover. It's been such a long time, but memories of the series are already flooding back into my brain.</p><p>I open the book.</p><p>It's only a few seconds before Natsuki once again inches closer, reclaiming the original space while she hopes I won't notice. I can feel her peer over my shoulder, just as eager as I am to begin reading.</p><p>"Wow, how long has it been since I read the beginning...?" Natsuki comments. </p><p>"Hm? You don't go back and flip through the older novels every now and then?" </p><p>She sighs. "Not really. Maybe sometimes after I've already finished the whole series."</p><p>I flip to the next page, pointing to a specific panel. "I remember this part...I used to spend ages trying to recreate a similar perspective in my own drawings...I never managed to get it good enough, though. The art is amazing, isn't it? I think that's my favorite part about the whole series."</p><p>"Really? Not the amazing story-lines and great characters?" Natsuki challenges, a steely glint in her eyes. </p><p>I shrug. "I was always more interested in the art style. I did read the books, but not as intensely as you probably have." </p><p>Natsuki huffs. "Well, this time you're going to read everything <em>properly</em>, and you're going to love every <em>second</em> of it."</p><p>"Seeing all this baking always made me hungry," I admit. "Actually, come to think of it...did you get into this series because of all the baking, or did you get into baking because of this series?"</p><p>"That's just a coincidence! I just happened to get into baking around the same time I got this manga. Like I would ever get into anything because it's in a manga. I feel bad for anyone that impressionable. Ahaha!"</p><p><em>Definitely</em> not a coincidence.</p><p>"Actually, this reminds of something. I don't know if you remember me saying this, but I made a cake for Sayori's birthday a while back."</p><p>Natsuki snickers. "The one where you put salt instead of sugar? And burned the icing?"</p><p>"I was trying to recreate one of the recipes. I think it was in issue #41."</p><p>"The birthday celebration? No, that was issue #45."</p><p>"It's kind of embarrassing, but I used to try and do a lot of stuff I'd read in various manga's. I would even rope Sayori into doing all sorts of crazy things with me, as well. She wasn't too hard to convince, though. I eventually stopped after I nearly ended up rollerblading into a moving van while blindfolded and carrying a wooden sword and shield."</p><p>Natsuki snorts. "Seriously?!"</p><p>"...Yeah, I'm not proud of that moment."</p><p>"Man, you're such a dweeb!"</p><p>"I know."</p><p>We read on for a few more minutes. </p><p>"Are you sure this isn't boring you? I'm a pretty slow reader, and I know a lot of people get frustrated reading stuff over my shoulder since I take a while to get through a single page."</p><p>"I'm not bored!" Natsuki insists. </p><p>"Even though you're just watching me read?"</p><p>"Well...! I'm fine with that."</p><p>"...I guess it's fun sharing something you like with someone else. Like when Sayori showed me how to knit. She was really excited teaching me, even though I messed up a lot. Plus, even though Sayori isn't really into manga, she does like it when I draw her fan art from my favorite series. You know what I mean?"</p><p>Natsuki shrugs, her expression closed. "...Well, I wouldn't really know."</p><p>"What do you mean? Don't you share your manga with your friends?"</p><p>Natsuki flushes. "Can you not rub it in?"</p><p>"Honestly," I admit, "the only people I talk about manga is with Sayori, and some kind-of friends at school. Also, I don't know if this counts, but I sometimes talk with some people on this one forum online. But usually the guys on the site just argue with each other about whether or not something is canon, fighting about which characters should be shipped together, and rating the top ten types of anime titties."</p><p>Natsuki pulls a face. "Gross."</p><p>Then, she sighs. "Like I could ever get my friends to read this...they just think manga is for kids. I can't even bring it up without them being all like...'Eh? You still haven't grown out of that?' Makes me want to punch them in the face..."</p><p>"Ugh, I know these kind of people. It's really hard to find friends that don't judge, much less friends who are also into it...I have some sort-of friends who also like anime and manga...but we're aren't buddies or anything like that, though. At least they listen to my fan theories, even if they make fun of them."</p><p>Natsuki lets out an even deeper sigh.</p><p>"I mean, I feel like I can't even keep it in my own room...I don't even know what my dad would do if he found this. At least it's safe in the club room. 'Cept Monika was kind of a jerk about it...ugh! I just can't win, can I?"</p><p>We sit in silence for a little while.</p><p>"...At least you can share it with me? I really missed this series."</p><p>"I guess, it's not like it solves any of my problems, though."</p><p>"Maybe...but at least you're enjoying yourself, right?"</p><p>Natsuki flushes pink. "...Are we just going to sit here? Can we move on already? Sheesh!"</p><p>I flip to the next page. </p><p>Suddenly, Natsuki starts laughing. "Ahahaha! I totally forgot that happens!"</p><p>Natsuki puts her finger on one of the panels. "Minori is my favorite character. You always feel a little bad for her, since she's so unlucky. But it gets especially bad when- wait, do you remember anything after issue #55?"</p><p>"No, sorry."</p><p>"Then I shouldn't be talking about that yet!"</p><p>"You know, I always liked Sakura the best. She reminds me of Sayori, you know? All goofy and silly and constantly hungry."</p><p>"...Huh, I never thought of that! They even have the same hair color!"</p><p>We spend the next few minutes talking about the series, with Natsuki helping me catch up on the things I'd forgotten. </p><p>"Okay, everyone!" Monika calls from the front of the room. "All you all ready with today's poems?"</p><p>Natsuki lets out an annoyed huff. "Oh, come on! Could your timing be any worse?"</p><p>"Sorry! I just need to make sure we have enough time," Monika explains. With a giggle, she adds, "Though you do look pretty cozy over there. Ahaha!"</p><p>"Eh?..." Natsuki says, clearly confused. Startling away from me with a yelp, Natsuki hastily slides about twelve inches away from me. </p><p>"Alright, I guess we'll stop here for now," I say, before closing the book and offering it to Natsuki. </p><p>"You're just giving it back...?" Natsuki raises her eyebrows. "I thought you said you missed reading it?"</p><p>"I do, but Monika just said-"</p><p>Rolling her eyes, Natsuki interrupts me. "Don't be dumb," she scoffs, "just take it home with you." She pauses for a second. "Just don't let your dad burn it, alright?"</p><p>"I haven't seen him in years, so all's good."</p><p>"...Don't let it get bent, either," Natsuki warns. "If it gets bent, I'll kill you."</p><p>"I'll have it back by tomorrow."</p><p>"Good! Because that's just how long I'm loaning it to you."</p><p>Standing up, I return to where I put my stuff and carefully slip the book into my bag.</p><p>"By the way," Monika asks me, "did you remember to write a poem last night?"</p><p>"Y-yeah," I say nervously.</p><p>My relaxation ends; I can't believe I agreed to do something this embarrassing. It was hard coming up with inspiration, seeing as I've never done this before. Even after reading some guides on the internet, it was still really difficult to put my pencil to the paper and start writing. </p><p>"Well," Monika says cheerfully, "now that everyone's ready, why don't you find someone to share with?"</p><p>"I can't wait!" Sayori says excitedly.</p><p>Both Sayori and Monika enthusiastically pull out their poems; Sayori's poem is on a wrinkled sheet of loose leaf torn from a spiral notebook, Monika's poem, on the other hand, is written in a composition book.</p><p>I can already see Monika's pristine handwriting from where I sit.</p><p>Natsuki and Yuri reluctantly comply as well, reaching into their bags.</p><p>I do the same, myself.</p><p>Ẅ̷̩̘̹̖̦̫͚͉̯͎̮̙̰͉͆̐͂̎͠ȟ̵͇̬͚̞̲̟̱̩̻̙̭͚̠̣̫̇̄̌̋̈̐͊̄̚͘͝ǒ̸͚̰̮̼͉̟̥̼͖̝͒͝ ̴̩͓̹̠̰̪͚̟̜̏̎̍̐̓͗̔̓͋̉̿͜͠s̶̛̮̫̘͇̹̜̳̥̞̝͌̅̎͋͝͝h̸͎̠͍̐̅̎̽̈́̆̃́̊͠ǒ̶̘̦̆̂͌̽̑̓u̴̡̨͈̩̥̗͔͔̻̭͙̜̤͎̎̇͑̔̽͌̿͜͝l̸̡̢̧̻̫̖̩͕̭͉̳̙̮͙͐̇̑̾͠ͅd̴̫̻̫̲̹̟̘̠ ̵̛͓̙̳͎̬͚̰̰̼̯͉̬͒͂͒̊̀̇̐͐̓̚͝I̵̢̢͔̙̟̝͇̻͆̉͛̇̉̓̔̐̅̂̇̄̚͝ ̶̥͎̃̔̈́͑̆s̵͍̘̙̼̓͒̇͑̀̌̊͝ḩ̶̡̼͈̳̬̱͎̯̔̑̾̈̋͂̓͒͒̉͌̉̚͝ͅo̸̟͈͓̫̫̓̈́̀w̷̛̗͇̗̭̓̽̑ ̸͈̫̦̻̮̺͔͋̔͜m̷̡͍͓̻̱͍̮̫̪͕͕͉̙̪̜̀̓̊͐͊͂y̸̳͇̰͖͇̫̩̅͊̍̋̈́̓̆̅̀͛̽̿̀̕͝ͅ ̸̼͙͎͍̼̈̆̋́̈́̐̍͒̄̚͠͝͝ͅp̸̳̖͔̫̲̙̣͖̦̙̗̂͋̐̓̐ơ̶͙̮͙͚̩̖͚̗̲̱̺̗̦̝͉̅̐͆̒̂̈́̈́̈́͗̕̕͝ể̵͔̗͎̯̙͙͈͇̖̘̬̬͈͠m̴̱̕ ̶̢̫͆̀̑̔͊̐̎͛̒͑͂̏t̴̢̢̝̟͕͈̲̃͛͐͋̎̉͐̂̅͆̑ợ̶̤̰̪̥͚̯̜̤̲̞̳̘͚̈́̑͆̈́̈́̍̐͋̕͘̕̕͠ ̸̡̩̪̩̭̝̪͖̝̗̞̹̲̓̐̾̆̈̋̍̑̑͋͘f̷̳̹͗i̵̲̼̬̝̼̓̾͊͑̏̇̈́ͅŗ̸̛̝͔̭̪̼̪͉̤̮̫̣̤̿̽͂͛̚ͅs̷̖͕̥̳̺̪̦̣͖̹̙̓̒̒̏̄̀̄̆̽͜͠t̵̢̡̧̘͇̞͓͓̤̳̪̯̝͉̔̽̐̆ͅ?̸̡̧̛̮͚͍̈́̉̓͊̀͑̉͆̍͌͝</p><p>Ş̶̱͈͓͇̣͓̗̆̐̾̽̊͘͝a̴̧̛̦͚̣̜̻̎̃̂̄͐̓͑́̉̕y̶̗͓̖̌̍̍ô̷̡̜͈̭͇̖͒́͑̂͐͛͆̃ŕ̶̜̭̜̫͕̬͍̥̌̊̐̃͠į̴̣̲̭̦̬̼͖̹̱̣̲͖͔̩̏</p><p>Ņ̸̧̺̭͍͈͓̜̣̝̠͈̓̒͛͐͜͝a̷̧͚̣̺̐ͅţ̵̢̡̛̩̟͇̻̪̜͗͑̓͊̄̆̍̐̕͜s̶͈͎̣̰͐̂̿̅̈́̔͆̍͆͝u̵̡̢̘̣̫͉͉̜̙̹̱̬͕̦̟͒̉̓k̸̢̨̢̻̰̙̺̹̙͇̥̱͓̣͂͗i̷̢̬̝̞̎̀̾͂͆͠</p><p>Y̵̭̳̬̞̻̬̝͈̯͔͐̿̃̎̌̄̐̈́̐͂̃͠ͅͅu̸̢̡̡͓̜̝̗̞̣̘̳̻͑͐̎̅͜r̴̨͇̤̠͇̃̀̋͑̈́̾̉̑̉̑̋͊̕͝i̴̺̳̻̍</p><p>M̶̧̩̝̹̊o̸̧̟̫̺̱̤̭͈̱͒̀͊̎̌̎̚ͅņ̶͈̙̩̃͑́̀͗̈́̑͝͝i̷̡̨̹̩͇̓̇k̸͙̗̝̹̫͖͇̫͖̬͇̪͈̻̆͆̈́̇͒̌̚̚͘ã̸̡̺̦͖̳͚͓̹̗̺̄̌̏̂͐̑͜͠ͅͅ</p><p>Who should I show my poem to first?</p><p>Sayori, of course. I'm definitely most comfortable sharing it with her first. She my best friend, after all. </p><p>...</p><p>My only friend, to be honest.</p><p> </p><p>I hand my poem to Sayori, and she takes several minutes scanning through it.</p><p>Sayori's always been a quick reader, so her spending so much time on it concerns me.</p><p>"Sayori?"</p><p>"...Oh my goodness! This is sooooooo good, Kaito!"</p><p>"Eh?"</p><p>"I love it! I had no idea you were such a good writer!"</p><p>I feel my face flush. "Sayori, are you just saying this because you're my friend? Because I'm not a good writer at all. I honestly have no idea what I'm doing. I had to look up how to write poems last night, and that didn't even help."</p><p>"Well..." Sayori starts, "maybe that's why! Because I have no idea what I like, either!"</p><p>She giggles.</p><p>"Jeez...I suppose we'll have to muddle through this together."</p><p>Still, I'm sure Yuri's opinion will be more constructive than this.</p><p>Maybe even Natsuki's. </p><p>"Are you sure you don't like it just because I wrote it?"</p><p>"Eh? Well, I'm sure that's part of it. I think I understand you better than a lot of people, you know? So when I read your poem, it's not just a poem. It's a Kaito poem! And that makes it feel extra special! Like I can feel your feelings in it!"</p><p>Sayori hugs the sheet to her chest.</p><p>I ruffle her hair. "You're so weird, Sayori."</p><p>"Ehehe...I'm really happy just that you wrote one. It just reminds me how you're really a part of the club now."</p><p>Besides the fact that I'm standing in front of her right now?</p><p>"Er...well...of course. I'm not really into it yet, but I that doesn't mean I'll break my promise."</p><p>"See? It's like I said before, Kaito...deep down you're not selfish at all, you know? Trying new things for other people...that's something only really good people do!"</p><p>"Thanks, Sayori."</p><p>"I'm gonna make sure you have a lot of fun, here, okay? That will be my way of thanking you!"</p><p>"Alright," I say with a smile, "I'm going to hold you to that."</p><p>"Yay! Now, you'll read my poem too, right? Don't worry, I'm really bad at this. Ehehehe..."</p><p>"We'll see about that."</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Sunshine</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>The way you glow through my blinds in the morning</em>
  <br/>
  <em>It makes me feel like you missed me.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Kissing my forehead to help me out of bed.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Making me rub the sleepy from my eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Are you asking me to come out and play?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Are you trusting me to wish away a rainy day?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I look above. The sky is blue.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>It's a secret, but I trust you too.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>If it wasn't for you, I could sleep forever.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>But I'm not mad.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I want breakfast.</em>
</p><p>"Sayori, this is just a guess, but...did you wait until morning to write this?"</p><p>There's a faint dusting of pink on her cheeks. </p><p>"No! J-just a little bit!"</p><p>I nudge her shoulder with mine. "You can't answer 'just a little bit' to a yes or no question."</p><p>"I forgot to do it last night," Sayori finally admits.</p><p>"Well, at least that makes me feel a little better about myself..."</p><p>"Don't be mean!" Sayori says, swatting me on the arm. "I still tried my best..."</p><p>"Ah, yeah. I didn't mean to say it's a bad poem. It came out nice...or, how should I put it...it sounds just like you."</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>"Yeah. Especially that last line."</p><p>"I made eggs and toast!"</p><p>"Even though you were late to school?"</p><p>"It's bad to skip breakfast! I get all cranky..."</p><p>I sigh. "Well, I guess there's no point in arguing. Well, do you think we should go trade poems with someone else?"</p><p>"Alright! This was fun. Monika's the best!"</p><p>"Ah...yeah."</p><p>"Next time," Sayori promises, "I won't forget! And I'll write the best poem ever!"</p><p>"Well, I guess I look forward to it."</p><p>Ẁ̸̧̘̳͎̭̱̫͇̜̰̫̪̝h̴͔͓̰̭̰͖̄̓͌̒͛͐̐̽̉́͝ͅo̴̺̱̟̬̮̪̲͖̰̘͍̜͔̪͂͐͐̈́͑̎̌͌̚̕ ̶̛͇̦͎̪̙͇̊̉̉͐̆͋ş̴̧̨͎̖̥̙̖̙̝͈̬̑͋͗̎̽͛̔̉͋ȟ̶̯̱̻̞͔̠̰̞̳̐̌̈́͗ō̷̡̝̙͚̮̃̒̂̎͛͗̅̑̕͘u̷̧̧̡̟̭̙̣͔̗̘͕̭̮̽̆̔͗̿͗̏̎̅̑͝l̵̼͆̍̂͆͌̆̑̿̓̅d̵̯͖̖̰̞͕̦̲͙̺̩̱̯͕̼̆͛̊͊͑͗̏͐̓͘͝ ̴̛͍̣̯̯͙͓͉̜̂͊͆̓̊̍̑̓͘͝I̸̺͕͉͔͎̦̞̲͋̌͑̔͊͌͗̓͝͠͝ ̸̖̖̘͈͉̖̩́̾̄͒s̴̼̤̥̥͙̹̹̙͕̦͑́̒͌̉̐̂͗̄̃̚͠h̴̡̨̧̗̰̟͍̯̲͕̰͔̲̒̋͆̿͛̎͌͆o̷̗͍̬͎͓̣̪̙͕̤̱͖͐̈́̽͛̅ẅ̸̧̲̫̠̜̙́̈́̀͐͋̏͊͘̕ ̸̛̭̗̦̟̯͖̣̞̱͉͍̞̭̗͌̀͌͑̉̿̿̍͑̑̑m̷̢̧̨̘͕̝̥̞̜̝̯̱̝͐͋̈̔̋͝͝y̴̢̛̛͎͍̘͇̜͒̾̆͊̿̓ ̴̨̩͇̺̖̬̗̲̍͐͐͗͌̒͆͊̇̈́̓̎̏́͜ͅͅp̶̛̣̤̯͉̟̖̋̌̈́͜͝ȍ̶̡̫̫̬̰͎̙̘͖̝̬͕͇̼̱̆͠ę̷̜͇͇̪̖͔͔͙͓̯̱̜͒̄̈̇̆̽͗͊̌̄͜͜͝͝͝m̶̨̧͓̠̤͕͇̻̖̫̘̹͈͚̍̐͊͛͛̽͂ͅ ̸̛̬̳̟̹̯͓͇̦̲̱̥͖̼̽̿̔̐̈́͗̄̓̕͝t̸̲̲̩͎̂̇͊̆̇̕ö̷̮̩͕̼̰̲͇̺̠̤̤́̂͛̀͐̾͑̽̉̽͊́̋͝͠ͅ ̶̞̺̒̋͂̀́̌̎̓̚͝n̶̬̩̝̺̬͉͙͗̌̍͑̆̒͘͘͜͠͝é̶͚̩̪̜̘̹̫͔̩̰̬̰̦̔͜x̶̮̱̣͖̝͊̿̓͋̍̀̔̅̓t̸̻̬̫̾̋̏?̶̡͔͙̮͖͕̠̣̘̠̐̊̚͜</p><p>Ņ̸̧̺̭͍͈͓̜̣̝̠͈̓̒͛͐͜͝a̷̧͚̣̺̐ͅţ̵̢̡̛̩̟͇̻̪̜͗͑̓͊̄̆̍̐̕͜s̶͈͎̣̰͐̂̿̅̈́̔͆̍͆͝u̵̡̢̘̣̫͉͉̜̙̹̱̬͕̦̟͒̉̓k̸̢̨̢̻̰̙̺̹̙͇̥̱͓̣͂͗i̷̢̬̝̞̎̀̾͂͆͠</p><p>Y̵̭̳̬̞̻̬̝͈̯͔͐̿̃̎̌̄̐̈́̐͂̃͠ͅͅu̸̢̡̡͓̜̝̗̞̣̘̳̻͑͐̎̅͜r̴̨͇̤̠͇̃̀̋͑̈́̾̉̑̉̑̋͊̕͝i̴̺̳̻̍</p><p>M̶̧̩̝̹̊o̸̧̟̫̺̱̤̭͈̱͒̀͊̎̌̎̚ͅņ̶͈̙̩̃͑́̀͗̈́̑͝͝i̷̡̨̹̩͇̓̇k̸͙̗̝̹̫͖͇̫͖̬͇̪͈̻̆͆̈́̇͒̌̚̚͘ã̸̡̺̦͖̳͚͓̹̗̺̄̌̏̂͐̑͜͠ͅͅ</p><p>The next person I talk to is Yuri.</p><p>"Mm..." </p><p>Yuri stares at the poem in silence. </p><p>A minute passes, more than enough for her to read to finish reading. </p><p>"Um..."</p><p>"Oh!" Yuri exclaims, sweating nervously. "S-sorry! I forgot to start speaking..."</p><p>"It's fine, don't force yourself. I always kind of worry whether I'm talking too much or not enough, and then I stress out because I feel like I've just said something dumb and made everything awkward or something. And then my hands starting sweating and suddenly I'm the guy with sweaty hands. Um. That was too much information, I'm sorry. I ramble when I get nervous."</p><p>Yuri smiles at me, her expression relieved. "I just need to put my thoughts into words. Hold on...okay." After a moment, Yuri asks, "This is your first time writing a poem, right?"</p><p>"Yeah...was it really that obvious?"</p><p>"I was just making sure," Yuri assures me. "I guessed it might be after reading it."</p><p>"...Is it that bad?"</p><p>"No!!" Yuri immediately flushes bright red. "Sorry, I didn't mean to raise my voice."</p><p>She then buries her face in her hands.</p><p>We haven't really gotten anywhere, but I also don't want to pressure Yuri into talking. </p><p>Sayori and Natsuki were a little easier to talk with, mostly because they took the lead in the conversation. Yuri, though, seems to be a bit like me, if not a lot shyer.</p><p>When I get nervous, I ramble.</p><p>When Yuri gets nervous, she withdraws.</p><p>"Don't worry about it, I didn't even notice. Besides, I really do what to hear how you think I can improve my writing style."</p><p>"Right...um...it's just that there are writing habits that are usually typical of new writers. And having been through that myself, I kind of learned how to pick up on them. I think the most noticeable thing about new writers is that they try and make their style deliberate. In other words, they tend to pick a writing style separate from the topic matter, and they form fit the two together. The end result is that both the style and the expressiveness are weakened. "</p><p>I nod in agreement.</p><p>Yuri sounds a lot more confident then she was earlier; her stammering is completely gone, and she sounds like an expert.</p><p>"Of course, that's not something you can be blamed for. There are so many different skills and techniques that go into writing even a simple poem. It might take you some time, but it all comes with practice, learning by example, and trying new things."</p><p>"Thanks, Yuri. That's really helpful."</p><p>Yuri flushes. "I also hope everyone else can give you valuable feedback. Natsuki can be a little biased though..."</p><p>"Biased? How?"</p><p>"U-um...well...never mind...I shouldn't be talking about people like that...sorry."</p><p>"It's fine. Don't worry, I won't say anything."</p><p>I'm not sure if Yuri is apologizing to me, herself, or Natsuki, but I don't want to pry. </p><p>So, instead I ask, "Would it be alright for me to read your poem?"</p><p>Yuri smiles at me. "Please do!"'</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Ghost under the light</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>The tendrils of my hair illuminate beneath the amber glow.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Bathing.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>It must be this one.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>The last remaining streetlight to have withstood the test of time.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>The last yet to be replaced by the sickening blue-green of the future.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I bathe. Calm; breathing air of the present but living in the past.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>The light flickers.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>I flicker back.</em>
</p><p>Yuri looks worriedly up at me. "I...I'm sorry I have such terrible handwriting!"</p><p>"Huh? You have great handwriting!"</p><p>"But it took you a long time to read..."</p><p>"I'm just a slow reader in general. This is kind of embarrassing, since I'm in a Literature Club and all, but reading has always been tricky for me. Also, I don't read script very often. I think your handwriting is really pretty!"</p><p>"Eh? That's...a relief. Not about the whole reading difficulty, of course. I just mean that I'm glad you didn't find it tricky to read."</p><p>"More importantly, though, I liked your poem. You've got a way with words."</p><p>"It wasn't too short? I usually write longer poems..."</p><p>"Not at all."</p><p>"I'm...really glad you like it. I'll be honest...since it's our first sharing, I wanted to write something a little bit more mild. Something easier to digest, I suppose."</p><p>"Are you into ghosts, Yuri?"</p><p>"Actually, the poem isn't about ghosts at all."</p><p>"R-really? Sorry about that, Yuri, I guess I really missed the point on that one."</p><p>"Well, I suppose you did only glance over it, after all...but remember that poets often express their thoughts, feelings, and experiences in their work. They usually do more than tell a simple story, or paint a picture. In this case, perhaps the subject of the poem is only being symbolically compared to a ghost. Lingering in her last remaining comfort, unable to let go of her past. And soon to be left with nothing...that's a lot more solemn, putting it that way." </p><p>"I didn't even think about it like that...but I really like the way you described it."</p><p>"It's nothing really," Yuri says modestly, "but...it makes me happy to hear that you like it. Just remember that it won't be long before you pick on these things, too."</p><p>"Maybe you're right. Although," I say with a grin, "I'm not sure I'll ever get my handwriting up to par with yours."</p><p>Yuri snorts, then looks embarrassed. "Sorry! I didn't mean..."</p><p>"Don't worry, everything's all <em>write</em>. You know, cause the word right sounds like write, and all."</p><p>Yuri giggles, hand covering her mouth as though she's trying not to show that she's smiling. </p><p>She has a lovely laugh.</p><p>"I think I get it."</p><p>Ẁ̸̧̘̳͎̭̱̫͇̜̰̫̪̝h̴͔͓̰̭̰͖̄̓͌̒͛͐̐̽̉́͝ͅo̴̺̱̟̬̮̪̲͖̰̘͍̜͔̪͂͐͐̈́͑̎̌͌̚̕ ̶̛͇̦͎̪̙͇̊̉̉͐̆͋ş̴̧̨͎̖̥̙̖̙̝͈̬̑͋͗̎̽͛̔̉͋ȟ̶̯̱̻̞͔̠̰̞̳̐̌̈́͗ō̷̡̝̙͚̮̃̒̂̎͛͗̅̑̕͘u̷̧̧̡̟̭̙̣͔̗̘͕̭̮̽̆̔͗̿͗̏̎̅̑͝l̵̼͆̍̂͆͌̆̑̿̓̅d̵̯͖̖̰̞͕̦̲͙̺̩̱̯͕̼̆͛̊͊͑͗̏͐̓͘͝ ̴̛͍̣̯̯͙͓͉̜̂͊͆̓̊̍̑̓͘͝I̸̺͕͉͔͎̦̞̲͋̌͑̔͊͌͗̓͝͠͝ ̸̖̖̘͈͉̖̩́̾̄͒s̴̼̤̥̥͙̹̹̙͕̦͑́̒͌̉̐̂͗̄̃̚͠h̴̡̨̧̗̰̟͍̯̲͕̰͔̲̒̋͆̿͛̎͌͆o̷̗͍̬͎͓̣̪̙͕̤̱͖͐̈́̽͛̅ẅ̸̧̲̫̠̜̙́̈́̀͐͋̏͊͘̕ ̸̛̭̗̦̟̯͖̣̞̱͉͍̞̭̗͌̀͌͑̉̿̿̍͑̑̑m̷̢̧̨̘͕̝̥̞̜̝̯̱̝͐͋̈̔̋͝͝y̴̢̛̛͎͍̘͇̜͒̾̆͊̿̓ ̴̨̩͇̺̖̬̗̲̍͐͐͗͌̒͆͊̇̈́̓̎̏́͜ͅͅp̶̛̣̤̯͉̟̖̋̌̈́͜͝ȍ̶̡̫̫̬̰͎̙̘͖̝̬͕͇̼̱̆͠ę̷̜͇͇̪̖͔͔͙͓̯̱̜͒̄̈̇̆̽͗͊̌̄͜͜͝͝͝m̶̨̧͓̠̤͕͇̻̖̫̘̹͈͚̍̐͊͛͛̽͂ͅ ̸̛̬̳̟̹̯͓͇̦̲̱̥͖̼̽̿̔̐̈́͗̄̓̕͝t̸̲̲̩͎̂̇͊̆̇̕ö̷̮̩͕̼̰̲͇̺̠̤̤́̂͛̀͐̾͑̽̉̽͊́̋͝͠ͅ ̶̞̺̒̋͂̀́̌̎̓̚͝n̶̬̩̝̺̬͉͙͗̌̍͑̆̒͘͘͜͠͝é̶͚̩̪̜̘̹̫͔̩̰̬̰̦̔͜x̶̮̱̣͖̝͊̿̓͋̍̀̔̅̓t̸̻̬̫̾̋̏?̶̡͔͙̮͖͕̠̣̘̠̐̊̚͜</p><p>Ņ̸̧̺̭͍͈͓̜̣̝̠͈̓̒͛͐͜͝a̷̧͚̣̺̐ͅţ̵̢̡̛̩̟͇̻̪̜͗͑̓͊̄̆̍̐̕͜s̶͈͎̣̰͐̂̿̅̈́̔͆̍͆͝u̵̡̢̘̣̫͉͉̜̙̹̱̬͕̦̟͒̉̓k̸̢̨̢̻̰̙̺̹̙͇̥̱͓̣͂͗i̷̢̬̝̞̎̀̾͂͆͠</p><p>M̶̧̩̝̹̊o̸̧̟̫̺̱̤̭͈̱͒̀͊̎̌̎̚ͅņ̶͈̙̩̃͑́̀͗̈́̑͝͝i̷̡̨̹̩͇̓̇k̸͙̗̝̹̫͖͇̫͖̬͇̪͈̻̆͆̈́̇͒̌̚̚͘ã̸̡̺̦͖̳͚͓̹̗̺̄̌̏̂͐̑͜͠ͅͅ</p><p>The next person I show my poem to is Natsuki.</p><p>I'd expected her to have some sort of criticism against my writing, so the fact that she's not saying anything is more than a little concerning. </p><p>Finally, Natsuki looks up at me, her expression unreadable. "...Okay, well let's start with the things I don't like! First of all, um..."</p><p>Natsuki pauses, taking the time to reread my poem. She's starting to flush a little. "N-never mind, I don't feel like giving you my opinion."</p><p>"Eh? Then what's the point of sharing in the first place? I wrote this when I could be doing other stuff. In fact, remember how I said I wanted to read your poems? That's what I had in mind while writing this. I want to help you feel comfortable enough to share yours."</p><p>"Uuu..." Natsuki groans, hands on her hips. "Well, I'd feel more comfortable sharing my poem if yours was really bad! You were supposed to show me this dumb poem and make me go 'Hah, well it's not that great but let me show you what real literature looks like! And you went and ruined it! I hope you're happy!"</p><p>"...Wait, does that mean you liked it?" I ask.</p><p>"Urk-!" Natsuki's retort gets caught in her throat. Clenching her hands into fists, she lets out a deep groan. "You just...you...don't understand anything, do you? I already told you that, you don't have to go announcing it the world like you're all self-important!"</p><p>"Oh. Um...sorry?"</p><p>"Don't apologize, that makes it worse!" Natsuki snaps. </p><p>"In any case," I continue, "you still need to show me your poem, right?"</p><p>Natsuki huffs. "Gr...fine, I guess. Only because Monika will make me if I don't."</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Eagles can fly</em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Monkeys can climb</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Crickets can leap</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Horses can race</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Owls can seek</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Cheetahs can run</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Eagles can fly</em>
  <br/>
  <em>People can try</em>
  <br/>
  <em>But that's about it.</em>
</p><p>"Yeah, I told you that you wouldn't like it."</p><p>"I like it. The ending's cool, and it takes me by surprise. It starts off flowing, and then it takes me for a loop with the last line."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>...Oh no, I messed up and made her mad.</p><p>"Just be honest!"</p><p>Actually, I think she doesn't look angry. She looks...nervous?</p><p>"Why are you so certain I won't like it?" </p><p>"Because!" Natsuki snaps, crossing her arms over her chest, "Everyone in high school thinks that writing has to be all sophisticated and stuff...so people don't take my writing seriously."</p><p>"But isn't the point of poems to express themselves? Your writing style wouldn't make your message any less valid."</p><p>"Yes, exactly! It's easy to read, but it hits you hard. Like in this poem! Seeing people around you do great things can be really disheartening...so I decided to write about it. "</p><p>"I totally get that. When I see other really talented people doing amazing things, sometimes I don't even want to try. Especially when they're really younger than me." </p><p>"Exactly! Anyway, the other great thing about simple writing is that it puts more weight on the wordplay. Like I set up for a rhyme at the end, but then I made it fall flat on purpose. It helps bring out the feeling in the last line."</p><p>"So you did...I guess more went into it than I realized."</p><p>Natsuki beams at me. "That's why I'm such a pro! I'm glad you learned something. Didn't expect from the youngest one here, did you?"</p><p>"Yeah, I guess not."</p><p>I decide to humor her with that last comment. I don't really care how old she is, but if Natsuki is feeling proud, than I won't take it away from her.</p><p>M̶̧̩̝̹̊o̸̧̟̫̺̱̤̭͈̱͒̀͊̎̌̎̚ͅņ̶͈̙̩̃͑́̀͗̈́̑͝͝i̷̡̨̹̩͇̓̇k̸͙̗̝̹̫͖͇̫͖̬͇̪͈̻̆͆̈́̇͒̌̚̚͘ã̸̡̺̦͖̳͚͓̹̗̺̄̌̏̂͐̑͜͠ͅͅ</p><p> </p><p>Now it's time to share my piece with Monika. When she gets my work, she scans the paper thoughtfully, green eyes focused on every single ink stroke.</p><p>Have I made some kind of spelling error?</p><p>...I probably did.</p><p>Maybe I can claim that I'm taking poetic license or something?</p><p>Would that even work on her?</p><p>Oh no, she's finished reading it.</p><p>"...Mmh! I like it, Kaito!" Monika praises. </p><p>"Really?"</p><p>Monika nods. "It's a lot cuter than I expected," she teases. </p><p>I can feel my face flush. "Oh...jeez...um..."</p><p>"No, no!" Monika quickly says, before adding, "It reminds me of something Natsuki would write. And she's a good writer, too. So take that as a compliment!"</p><p>"...I guess so."</p><p>"By any chance have you read anything by Shel Silverstein?" Monika asks.</p><p>I think for a moment. "The name sounds familiar to me, but I can't remember too much about his books. Didn't he write one called 'The Giving Tree' or something?"</p><p>"Yep, you're right! Anyway, he's famous for telling all kinds of stories in just a few simple words. His poems can be funny, endearing, or even sad...and sometimes they're only a few lines long. They might even feel like they were written for kids, but if you think about them...they can express views about the world that would apply to anybody."</p><p>"I see..." I comment. "So you're saying Natsuki is kind of like that?"</p><p>Monika shrugs. "Sort of. Maybe she's not an expert...but you probably won't find much filler in her poems. They might be easy to write, but they're super challenging to get the meaning through. So I can see why it would be your kind of poem to explore!"</p><p>"I'm sure I'll end up trying different things a lot. It could take a while before I feel comfortable doing this."</p><p>"That's okay!" Monika says with a cheerful smile, "I'd love to see you try new things. That's the best way to find a style that suits you. Everyone might be a little biased toward their own kind of styles...but I'll always help you find what style suits you the most! So don't force yourself to write the way anyone else wants you to write. It's not like you have to worry about impressing them or anything."</p><p>"That's where you're wrong," I joke, "I feed on validation. I constantly worry about what people think of me."</p><p>Both of us giggle.</p><p>It's funny how easy it is to talk to Monika. </p><p>"Anyway, do you want to read my poem now? Don't worry, I'm not very good."</p><p>"You sound pretty confident for someone who claims not to be any good."</p><p>Monika shrugs. "That's because I have to sound confident. That doesn't mean I always feel that way, you know?"</p><p>"...I see. Well, let's read it, then."</p><p>
  <em> <strong>Hole in Wall</strong> </em>
</p><p><em>It couldn't have been me.</em><br/><em>See, the direction the spackle protrudes.</em><br/><em>A noisy neighbor? An angry boyfriend? I'll never know. I wasn't home.</em><br/><em>I peer inside for a clue.</em><br/><em>No! I can't see. I reel, blind, like a film left out in the sun.</em><br/><em>But it's too late. My retinas.</em><br/><em>Already scorched with a permanent copy of the meaningless image.</em><br/><em>It's just a little hole. It wasn't too bright.</em><br/><em>It was too deep.</em><br/><em>Stretching forever into everything.</em><br/><em>A hole of infinite choices.</em><br/><em>I realize now, that I wasn't looking in.</em><br/><em>I was looking out.</em><br/><em>And he, on the other side, was looking in</em>.</p><p>"Hmm...it's very freeform...if that's what you call it. Sorry, I'm not the best person to talk about for feedback."</p><p>"Aha...it's okay. Yeah, that style has gotten pretty popular nowadays. That is, a lot of poems have been putting emphasis on the timing between words and lines. When performed out loud, it can be really powerful."</p><p>"What was the inspiration behind this one?"</p><p>"Ah...well, I'm not sure if I know how to put it. I guess you could say that I had some kind of epiphany lately. It's been influencing my poems a bit."</p><p>"An epiphany?"</p><p>"Yeah... something like that. I'm kind of nervous to talk about deep stuff like that, because it's kind of coming on strongly...maybe after everyone is better friends with each other. Anyway...here's Monika's Writing Tip of the Day! Sometimes when you're writing a poem-or story-your brain gets too fixated on a specific point...if you try so hard to make it perfect, then you'll never make any progress. Just force to get something down on the paper, and tidy it up later!</p><p>Another way to think about it is this: If you keep your pen in the same spot for too long, you'll just get a big dark puddle of ink. So just move your hand and go with the flow!"</p><p>"...Thanks?"</p><p>"...That's my advice for today! Thanks for listening!"</p><p> </p><p>I guess that's everyone. </p><p>Whew, it was a lot more stressful than I could have anticipated...but it was almost kind of fun as well. </p><p>Maybe.</p><p>Is it worth all this stress?</p><p>Um...</p><p>I'll think about that later.</p><p>I glance across the room, where Sayori and Monika are happily chatting. Then, my eyes land on Yuri and Natsuki, gingerly exchanging their sheets of paper, sharing their respective poems.</p><p>As they read in tandem, I watch each of their expressions change.</p><p>Neither of them look particularly happy.</p><p>Natsuki's brows furrow in frustration. Meanwhile, Yuri smiles sadly. </p><p>
  <em>This isn't good. </em>
</p><p>From across the room, I hear Natsuki mutter, "What's with this language...?" under her breath. </p><p>"Eh? Um...did you say something?" Though polite, I can hear the steely edge underneath Yuri's tone.</p><p>
  <em>Oh no. </em>
</p><p>"Oh, it's nothing," Natsuki says, all faux casual. Dismissively, she returns the poem to the desk with one hand. "I guess you could say it's fancy."</p><p>"Ah-thanks..." Yuri stutters. "Yours is...cute." She's clearly grasping for straws, hoping not to offend Natsuki.</p><p>From Natsuki's outraged expression, it's clear that Yuri's attempt failed.</p><p>"Cute? Did you completely miss the symbolism or something? It's clearly about the feeling of giving up. How can that be cute?"</p><p>"I-I know that!" Yuri stammers, "I just meant...the language, I guess...I was trying to say something nice..."</p><p>Natsuki's scowl grows even deeper. "Eh? You mean you had to try that hard to come up with something nice to say? Thanks, but it didn't really come out nice at all!"</p><p>"Umm...well, I have a couple of suggestions..." Yuri begins.</p><p>Natsuki huffs.</p><p>
  <em>Oh no oh no oh no. Why did you have to say that, Yuri?</em>
</p><p>"If I was looking for suggestions," Natsuki snips, "I would have asked someone who actually liked it. Which people<em> did, </em>by the way. Sayori liked it. Kaito liked it too! So based on that, I'll gladly give you some suggestions of my own."</p><p>
  <em>Oh no she mentioned my name why did she have to mention me by name?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why did you mention me by name Natsuki? </em>
</p><p>"First off all-" Natsuki begins, before quickly getting cut off by Yuri.</p><p>"Excuse me..." Yuri says, "I appreciate the offer, but I've spent a long time establishing my writing style. I don't expect it to change anytime soon, unless I find something particular inspiring. Which I haven't yet."</p><p>
  <em>Oh <strong>god</strong> Yuri why did you say that?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why isn't anyone stepping in?</em>
</p><p>"Nngh!" </p><p>Crossing her arms, Yuri says dismissively, "And Kaito liked my poem too, you know. He even told me he was impressed by it."</p><p>Natsuki suddenly stands up. "Oh? I didn't realize you were so invested in trying to impress our new member, Yuri," Natsuki snarks.</p><p>Yuri's face flushes bright pink. No longer cool and collected, Yuri stammers out, "That's not what I...you..you're just..."</p><p>Yuri stands up as well, pointing an accusatory finger in Natsuki's face. "Maybe you're just <em>jealous </em>that Kaito appreciates my advice more than he appreciated yours!"</p><p>It doesn't look like either Sayori <em>or</em> Monika have noticed what's going on.</p><p>
  <em>Please turn around please turn around please turn around...</em>
</p><p>"Huh! And how do you know he didn't appreciate <em>my</em> advice more?" Natsuki snaps back, hands clenching into fists. "Are you that full of yourself?"</p><p>"I..! No..." Yuri stares down at her hands for a moment, before whipping her head back up again. "If I was full of myself...I would deliberately go out of my way to make everything I do overly cutesy!"</p><p>"Uuuuu...!" Natsuki growls, puffing herself upwards in order to stare Yuri directly in the eyes.</p><p><em>Finally, </em>Sayori turns, notices the commotion, and hurries over to them both. "U-um...is everyone okay?"</p><p>"Well, you know what?!" Natsuki sneers, "At least I wasn't the one whose boobs magically grew a size bigger when Kaito started showing up!!"</p><p>"N-Natsuki!!" Yuri yelps.</p><p>
  <em>Don't look at her boobs don't look at her boobs don't look at her boobs...</em>
</p><p>"Um, Natsuki," Monika begins, clearly taken aback, "that's a little-"</p><p>Both Yuri and Natsuki snap, "This doesn't involve you!"</p><p>Monika startles, taking a step back.</p><p>"I-I don't like fighting, guys..." Sayori whimpers.</p><p>Then, to my horror, both Natsuki and Yuri turn back to me, as if noticing me properly for the first time. </p><p>
  <em>Oh <strong>no</strong>.</em>
</p><p>"Kaito...!" Yuri stammers, "She's just trying to make me look bad...!"</p><p>"That's not true! She started it! If she could just get over herself and learn to appreciate that <em>simple </em>writing is more effective...then this wouldn't have happened in the first place! What's the point in making your poems all convoluted for no reason? The meaning should jump out at the reader, not force them to have to figure it out. Help me explain it to her, Kaito!" </p><p>
  <em>Why is she asking me???????</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I don't know <strong>anything</strong> about poetry!</em>
</p><p>"W-wait!" Yuri cries, and for a blissful moment I think she's going to tell Natsuki something along the lines of, <em>"Kaito's a beginner, we shouldn't force him to choose!"</em></p><p>Instead-</p><p>"There's a reason we have so many deep and expressive words in our language! It's the only way to convey complex feelings and meaning the most effectively. Avoiding them is not only unnecessarily limiting yourself...it's also a waste! You understand that, right, Kaito?"</p><p>
  <em>No! I don't understand! I don't understand anything at all! </em>
</p><p>"Um.."</p><p>"Well??" The two of them snap at me.</p><p>"..."</p><p>
  <em>How did I get dragged into this in the first place?! My opinion literally means nothing here! I know nothing about writing, let alone poetry!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>B̸̠̺̜͐̿̏̈́̓́̈́̕͝͝u̴̡̨̙̖̥̯̣̅̐͑̂t̷͈͈͙͙͆̔̆͐͗͂͆̔̈̇ͅ ̷̢̪͕̩̘̳͙͙̻̻̻̬͊̐̑̓͗̎̇̒͐͊͋̌͜ẅ̶̺͎̻̑̔̍̃͌̓̇ḣ̵̨̧̖̻̻̭̞̱̘͐͐́́̆̐̐́͛̄̏͠ͅͅṓ̵͙̳̼̆̆̂̓͗͑̉͒̕m̸̻̩̥̫̩̬̟̫̰͖̺̼̊͒͒͆͐͆̈̌ͅę̴̪̭͓͈̭̞͉̣̙͓̬̞̝͚̾̋̒͊̅̊̋̔̒͐̅͘͝͠v̶̧̙̲͎̺̠̠̯̦̝̞̹͒͒̈͐̈́̐̈́̚͜ͅë̶̲̩̳̫̲͎͓͇̗͕̜͎̠̯̉̓̆̎̔͊̑̑͋͜r̵̢̀̈́̌̏͠ ̴̟̬͉̫̟͎͈̣͍̂̊̊̀́͛̊Į̷͉̥̘̻̹̜̮̞͙͗̋́̎ ̸̛͚̞̥͔͚̺͔͔̮̮͖̅͆̈́̆̄͑̈́̎̕͜͜͝͝á̸̡̲͔̪͎̝͕̬̪̳̬͔̇̇̇̾̾g̷̡̱̝̓͛̕ͅͅr̷͈͚̭͙̯̙̞͇̰̺̰̂̊̔̓͊͛e̵̢̢̧̗̗̤̙͖̦̬̲͇̝͔̍̓̾͗͗͊̅͆̆̊̈̈́͘͝ę̵̨̡̳̝̣̠̭̪͓̻͙̖̋̍̎͛̃͘ͅ ̸̢̺͇̗͚̦͉͔̖̼̤̮͍̫̆̕͜͝w̷̗͉͇̱̖͆̑̑̈̊́i̵̙̘̤̥̭̲͇̪͍̐͑̂̅̕͝͝t̵̼̏̎͒̔̇̎̾̿͐̑͗͜͠͠h̸̢̨̘͓̘̙͑̐̐̏̉͝ͅ,̴͚̪͍͙̩̠͉̭̣͓̣͖̩̹̏̈́̔̆͜͠ ̵͇͎̈͗̌̿́̕ţ̴̡̢͎͉̝͓̜͕̣̟̩̆̈̚͠h̴̜̀͛̂͘ẻ̶̛̺͙̳̹̞̳̪͍͓͇̍̈͊̊̊̒͘͘y̷̡͚͕̬̳̞͉͕͓̼̰̗͚̥̙̔̾̾͗̾̅̆͛̓'̵̞̥͚̣͔͔̞̩̖̗̥̃́̿̿͂̑͋̿̈́̐͜͜͝ļ̴̛̭̹̣͕͇͕͔̑̍͗̑̇̑̍̉̃̔͒̕͝͠ͅĺ̵͍̱̹͍̺̓̇̃̚ ̷̧̯̻̦̞̝͕̫͖̯̱̿͆̽̎͗̍͝͝p̵̠͉̥̬̼̈̈̃͠ŗ̴̣̩̹̮͇̖͔̫͚̟͕̫͒͛̐͘ǫ̵̩͉̝͔͓̲͈̀̏̕ͅb̸̻̖̅ą̴̳̥̝̬̼̝̗͍̳̉̆̎͗̓̅͗̐̎͐̎̚̚͜͝ḇ̸̢̳͇͕̗̥̘̱̻̘̬̲̘̘̊̉̓̎͑͐̾̔̔̏̈̎͝͝͠ļ̴̭̩͇͠y̶̡̡̝̘͔̫̞̬̠̞̩̜͕̎̋͛͜ͅ ̴̠̭̅͛͂̓̄̈́̃̈́͛͂̆̔̕͝͝t̷̼̩̲̰̫̝͇͖̝͔̥͙̄̿̓ͅḧ̵̛̦͔́̽͆̐̄͌̆̽̍͝î̴̧͖̹̦̌̀̍͊̓̾́̆͂̕ṋ̵̋̄̍̈͒̃͗̌̈́̓̈̕ͅk̶̬̝̘͕̪̤̮̺̀̏̊͌̿͆̿͑̃̅̽͌ ̸̼̫̖̃͘m̵̛̱͖̳̣͔̪͗̈̈́̅͗͗̒̃͂̐͘̚ờ̷̛̛̺͎͐͗͒̀̏̈͛͘r̸̘͎͓̲̹̒̈́̅͊͋̾͐͌̏͜e̶͙̣͋̓̿̉͛̕ ̸̝͚̟͖͛̑h̶̛̥̲̹̙̰̼̜̙̝̲̯̜̝̒̋́̾̈̚͠i̵̯̾̒̇͒̆̄̈́̚͝ġ̴̡̨̧̨̭̘̲̲̲̬͔͂͛̏̓̔̈́̇̓͒̍̚͜͝h̴̖̟̋͆̃͊̾̑̾͌̅̋̏̚l̴̛̛̪̥̍͋͋͊̆̈́̈́̽̈́͝y̸̨̨̞͗̔͒̈́ ̴̧̨̡͓͙̬̬̦̜͍̼̪̍̑̉̈̆͋̚͝o̵̘̩͊̅̏͗̃̉̑̔f̶̨̼̥͙̠͓̤͖̖̘̜̱̍̓̊̓̈́ͅ ̷̡͇̫̰͔̥̺̭̠̯͆̔̈m̴̰̹͇̠̜͌̃͋̑̈́͜e̶̢̛̙̺͕̪̦͙͕̥͚̙̥̳̩̫͊̇͒͗͑͆̇̐̓̾͌̚͘͝!̸͍̝͔̫̳͉͍̯͖̖̮̜̗̝̑̓</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>S̶̡̠̱̦̺̩̲̝̻͙̪̫̭̿o̸͎͇͖̽̍̑͑͒̓̃̇͛͊̈͜͝,̶͉̜͙̭̺͔̱̭̹̭͙͑̓͋̚̚ ̷̧̂̇̅̑̂̌̐̀̊̕͘͘͠o̴̡̧̯̻̣̗̖̰͚̱̟̪̹͎̎̂̆̉̐̅̊͐͆͝͝f̶̨̛͔͚͕̠͒̂́̄̈̾͂͌̚ͅ ̵̡̨̙͚͈̮͍̲̈̒̈̔͑̀͠c̶̡̠͚̞̗̩̗̹͖͖̲͚̖̜̺̏ȯ̸̢̩̗͚͔͖̳̖̻̜̲͈͌̽̏͂̏͑̃̍͒̾͝͝͠ū̷̢̨͔͖̱̫̭̘̳ͅȓ̸̨̛̥̥̩͓̻͔̹̻̣͙̅̊̃̆͑̚̕͜͜s̷̢̬͕̯͚͈̬͎͓͙̼̜̪͖͊̓̋̽̈́̍͒̍̕̚ė̸͙̜̲͋̌̊͑̔͒̈́͐͑̈͝ ̴͎̬͉̻͖̺͔̹͉̟͉͂͊ͅͅt̵̰̰̻͈̤̫͓̔̿̔͜͠h̸̨͇̪͉͕̣̭̪̞͔͘̕ä̸̡̬͙̞̟̺̰͌ẗ̸̰̹̞̪̯͚́͗́̎'̴̢̟͖͉̳̼̻̗͚͔̠͆̈͊̈́̔͑̓͒͒͠s̸̭̎͌̈́̈ ̵̡̦̟̜͇̟̱̇̑̆̿̈́̂̓̈́̓g̴̛̰̮̦̯̠̫̦͕͊́̋͑̋̃̆̓͊͘͝ö̸͕̤̪̠͈̟͈́̌̒̎̑̊͂͑̊̽̏͜͠ͅͅĭ̶̹͇̮͒n̷̤̯̞̫̤͉̊͗̂͒̎͛̌̍͗͑̅̑̔̕ģ̶̖̫̯̓̎͌̆̇͑͋͊̃̋̕͘͝͝ ̷̧̟͙͙̩̥͗͐͗̓̓̎͌͒͑̍̿͘̚̕͠t̵͍̣͊̇͗̾̑͆̊͌͂̈͝͠o̵̙̖̬̗̹̮̮͈̔̒ ̶̢͉̼̘͕̲̈́̈̂̃͜ͅb̵̨̧̡̨̦͙̠͇̭͇͎͚͎͎͒e̵̢̨͚̫̺̞̙̮̣͕̒̈́̐̍̽̀̓͑̑͝ͅ.̷̨̢̛̺̝̱̫̰̦͕̫̰̞̔̃̿̋̍̇̚͝.̸͕̘̪̍͝.̵͚̯͇̳̰̹͚̖̒͋̄ͅ</em>
</p><p>Ņ̸̧̺̭͍͈͓̜̣̝̠͈̓̒͛͐͜͝a̷̧͚̣̺̐ͅţ̵̢̡̛̩̟͇̻̪̜͗͑̓͊̄̆̍̐̕͜s̶͈͎̣̰͐̂̿̅̈́̔͆̍͆͝u̵̡̢̘̣̫͉͉̜̙̹̱̬͕̦̟͒̉̓k̸̢̨̢̻̰̙̺̹̙͇̥̱͓̣͂͗i̷̢̬̝̞̎̀̾͂͆͠</p><p>Y̵̭̳̬̞̻̬̝͈̯͔͐̿̃̎̌̄̐̈́̐͂̃͠ͅͅu̸̢̡̡͓̜̝̗̞̣̘̳̻͑͐̎̅͜r̴̨͇̤̠͇̃̀̋͑̈́̾̉̑̉̑̋͊̕͝i̴̺̳̻̍</p><p>H̸̝̩̠̓̂̂̌̋͒͐̿̓̾̕͝͝e̴̘̺̳̤͎̦͔͝l̴͉̮̩͔͇̤̘̙͖̠̹͕̽͊͗͆̅̕̚͜͜p̴̢̧̨̢͇̦͇͉̯̭̗̹͒̊͌̀͐ ̸̛̯̿̅̂̈͂̇̆̽̃͋̚͜m̴̨̡̡̦̻͉̫̯̗̐̈́̍ë̶̮̲́̋͐̅̐̿,̸̨̛̭̤͈̙͍̳̹̰̞̣̫̇̈́͐̽̈́̾̇̕͜͠͠ ̷̨̨͉̬̲̈͒̔͆̎͝S̷̢̨̲̠̠̺̥̞̩͍̝̜̠̤̿̋̈̎̏͐͆̓̍̈͋̕ǎ̷̛̤͈̦̻̼̪̬̦̭̟̥̊̃̒͌y̴̡̬̭̰̱̙͔̲͕̙̒̾͒̐o̵̱̤̺̞̜̬̱̙̫͍͍͖̟̝͐̀̎̄͊̿̈́̀͂̑̈̍͜r̷͇̯̤̹̹͕͆͒̃͘̚i̶̠̩̝̣̤͇̹͕̒͐̕ͅ!̵͔͗̈́̌̅</p><p>
  <em>What do I do????</em>
</p><p>Ņ̸̧̺̭͍͈͓̜̣̝̠͈̓̒͛͐͜͝a̷̧͚̣̺̐ͅţ̵̢̡̛̩̟͇̻̪̜͗͑̓͊̄̆̍̐̕͜s̶͈͎̣̰͐̂̿̅̈́̔͆̍͆͝u̵̡̢̘̣̫͉͉̜̙̹̱̬͕̦̟͒̉̓k̸̢̨̢̻̰̙̺̹̙͇̥̱͓̣͂͗i̷̢̬̝̞̎̀̾͂͆͠</p><p>
  <em>I can't choose a side! Both of them have valid points!</em>
</p><p>My vision blurs for a second, and for a brief moment, I feel sick to my stomach.</p><p>"N-Natsuki...Yuri..."</p><p>Ņ̸̧̺̭͍͈͓̜̣̝̠͈̓̒͛͐͜͝a̷̧͚̣̺̐ͅţ̵̢̡̛̩̟͇̻̪̜͗͑̓͊̄̆̍̐̕͜s̶͈͎̣̰͐̂̿̅̈́̔͆̍͆͝u̵̡̢̘̣̫͉͉̜̙̹̱̬͕̦̟͒̉̓k̸̢̨̢̻̰̙̺̹̙͇̥̱͓̣͂͗i̷̢̬̝̞̎̀̾͂͆͠</p><p>My head is spinning, and all my words are stuck in my throat.</p><p>Ņ̸̧̺̭͍͈͓̜̣̝̠͈̓̒͛͐͜͝a̷̧͚̣̺̐ͅţ̵̢̡̛̩̟͇̻̪̜͗͑̓͊̄̆̍̐̕͜s̶͈͎̣̰͐̂̿̅̈́̔͆̍͆͝u̵̡̢̘̣̫͉͉̜̙̹̱̬͕̦̟͒̉̓k̸̢̨̢̻̰̙̺̹̙͇̥̱͓̣͂͗i̷̢̬̝̞̎̀̾͂͆͠</p><p>Ņ̸̧̺̭͍͈͓̜̣̝̠͈̓̒͛͐͜͝a̷̧͚̣̺̐ͅţ̵̢̡̛̩̟͇̻̪̜͗͑̓͊̄̆̍̐̕͜s̶͈͎̣̰͐̂̿̅̈́̔͆̍͆͝u̵̡̢̘̣̫͉͉̜̙̹̱̬͕̦̟͒̉̓k̸̢̨̢̻̰̙̺̹̙͇̥̱͓̣͂͗i̷̢̬̝̞̎̀̾͂͆͠</p><p>Ņ̸̧̺̭͍͈͓̜̣̝̠͈̓̒͛͐͜͝a̷̧͚̣̺̐ͅţ̵̢̡̛̩̟͇̻̪̜͗͑̓͊̄̆̍̐̕͜s̶͈͎̣̰͐̂̿̅̈́̔͆̍͆͝u̵̡̢̘̣̫͉͉̜̙̹̱̬͕̦̟͒̉̓k̸̢̨̢̻̰̙̺̹̙͇̥̱͓̣͂͗i̷̢̬̝̞̎̀̾͂͆͠</p><p>Ņ̸̧̺̭͍͈͓̜̣̝̠͈̓̒͛͐͜͝a̷̧͚̣̺̐ͅţ̵̢̡̛̩̟͇̻̪̜͗͑̓͊̄̆̍̐̕͜s̶͈͎̣̰͐̂̿̅̈́̔͆̍͆͝u̵̡̢̘̣̫͉͉̜̙̹̱̬͕̦̟͒̉̓k̸̢̨̢̻̰̙̺̹̙͇̥̱͓̣͂͗i̷̢̬̝̞̎̀̾͂͆͠</p><p>Ņ̸̧̺̭͍͈͓̜̣̝̠͈̓̒͛͐͜͝a̷̧͚̣̺̐ͅţ̵̢̡̛̩̟͇̻̪̜͗͑̓͊̄̆̍̐̕͜s̶͈͎̣̰͐̂̿̅̈́̔͆̍͆͝u̵̡̢̘̣̫͉͉̜̙̹̱̬͕̦̟͒̉̓k̸̢̨̢̻̰̙̺̹̙͇̥̱͓̣͂͗i̷̢̬̝̞̎̀̾͂͆͠</p><p>"...Y-you guys, w-why...um...Sayori!"</p><p>"Eh?" Sayori gasps, clearly startled at being put in spotlight.</p><p>"Everyone's fighting is making Sayori uncomfortable!"</p><p>Because they are.</p><p>
  <em>Sayori hates conflict even more than I do. </em>
</p><p>Remembering this gives me the courage to stand tall. </p><p>"How can the two of you keep fighting like this when you know you're making your friend feel like this?"</p><p>"...Well, that's her problem!" Natsuki says snootily. "This isn't about her."</p><p>"I-I agree," Yuri says coldly, "it's unfair for others to interject their feelings into our conflict."</p><p>"Yeah, unless Sayori wants to tell Yuri what a stuck-up jerk she's being."</p><p>"She would never...! It's your immaturity that's made her upset in the first place!"</p><p>"<em>Excuse </em>me? Are you listening to yourself? This is exactly why...exactly why nobody likes-"</p><p>"<em>Stop!!</em>" Sayori shouts.</p><p>Everyone falls silent; I think this is the first time any of them has ever heard her get this loud. </p><p>"Natsuki! Yuri! You guys are my friends!" Sayori tells them earnestly. "I-I just want everyone to get along and be happy! My friends are wonderful people...and I love them because of their differences! Natsuki's poems...they're amazing because they give you so many feelings with just a few words! And Yuri's are so amazing because they paint beautiful pictures in your head!"</p><p>
  <em>This is who Sayori is.</em>
</p><p>Underneath all her layers, she's always been someone who understands people, knows how to look deep within and see things others miss.</p><p>"Everyone's so talented...so why are we fighting...?"</p><p>Both Natsuki and Yuri look unsure.</p><p>"Be-because..." Natsuki halfheartedly begins. </p><p>"Well..."</p><p>The two of them fall silent.</p><p>"Also!" Sayori says, in a much more cheerful voice, "Natsuki's cute and there's nothing wrong with that! And Yuri's boobs are the same as they always were! Big and beautiful!!"</p><p>There's an awkward pause.</p><p>Sayori stands triumphantly.</p><p>Monica stands behind her with a bewildered expression. </p><p>"I'll... make some tea..." Yuri says quickly, before rushing off.</p><p>Natsuki sits down with a blank expression on her face, staring at nothing.</p><p>I make my way over to Monika, and say quietly, "So this is why Sayori's Vice President..."</p><p>She nods in return.</p><p>"To be honest," Monika admits quietly, "I might come off as a good leader, and I can organize things...but I'm not very good with people."</p><p>Monika looks down at the floor, face flushing. "I couldn't even bring myself to interject. As President, that's kind of embarrassing of me."</p><p>Looking back up, she chuckles awkwardly. "Ahaha..."</p><p>"Are you kidding? You saw how I reacted. If anyone should be embarrassed, it's me."</p><p>"Well..." Monika begins, "I guess that means Sayori is amazing in her own ways, isn't she?"</p><p>"People tend to underestimate her, you know. They think she's some kind of airhead, and I won't deny she acts like one. But...she's a lot deeper and complex than most people give her credit for."</p><p>"I see. Take good care of her, okay? I would hate to see her get hurt."</p><p>"That makes two of us...but don't worry, you can count on me."</p><p>Monika smiles sweetly at me, causing my stomach to knot. Such a generous person really does make a good president, regardless of what she says.</p><p>I̴̟̬͋͗̈́̑̀͝f̵̛̲͙͙̗̟̮̝͖͚̣͗̈́̊̒̇̂̐̕ ̴̣̺̪̞͉̹̣̭̮́ͅͅo̵̢̝̖͉̘̤̫͈͕̭̣̞̺̪͗̓́̾̔̇̐̕ñ̷̮͓͇̪̭̖̱͎̭̪̿͆͗̈l̴̢͇̩̗͕̯͕̭̪̫̳̖̭̺̈́̓̌͑̉̏y̴̠̼͋ ̷̱͙͚̦͕̠͇͙̝̒̆͋͐̀̈̕̕͝͝ͅI̷̡̡̳͓̮̖͕̲͍͇̣̞̭͒̆̓̔ ̷̡̯͔̞̮̅́̐c̶̨̧̝͍̠̺̪̜͉͌̅̊̈̅̄̽̀͜͝͠o̸̡̜̻̹͌̂̔͌̿̿̑̈́̉̚̚̚ư̴̩̪̖̣̝̭͎̹̼̖̼͈͖̱̘̔̂̽͂͊̾̒̅̽͂͝͝ĺ̵̨̠̟̳̳̻̲̯̞͜͝ḑ̸͕̰̟͚͈̖̲̱̬̳̙̣͛́̄̃̏͂͊̈́́͒ͅ ̵̛͓̙͓̯͍̯̖̯̘̓͌g̶̡̰̣̜̯͂͌̆͛̈̊̏͒̽̌͜e̵͔͇̗͍̬̩̞͔̗͑̾͌̍͛̔͗͒̿̏͗̐͊͘͝t̴̨̜̰̫̗͛̈̽̕͠͝ ̵͇͓͉̘̰͙̋̄͑̍̿̅̃͗̈́̽̈́͝͠͝͝a̵̮̹̖̳͙̬̮͇̰̱͆̄͝͝ ̴̧̲̦̻̤̮̦͊̿́̐̋͛̀̒͘c̶͙̼͋͗͋̈́̃̕ḩ̴̡̦̳̠̯͍̋̓̓̆̏͐̓̍͗̏͘͝ͅǎ̸̭̒̐̏͑͑̓͑͒̊̈̔͊̈n̷̡̧̼̬͖̔̿͐̾̂͐͆͗c̶̠̗̜̱̻̔͗͑̽̔͂̓̉̋̈́̍̅͝ȩ̶̫͙̙̝̰̫̙̮̘̇̔͒̃̓ ̶̨̹̼̖̬̲̖̪̞̗͈͂̈́̔͝͠t̴̡̡̞̦͇̩͉̪̳͚͎̦̞͑̽͛̉͆͑̈̅̔͆̚̕͝͝ö̵̠͉̞͐͑̇͌̈͋̎̿̈́̈́͌̚͝ ̶̞͎͖͛̏̒̉͂̔̊̎̃̚͜ͅţ̴̛̄͂̆̿̋̀̉ą̶̨̛̙͉͓̪̥̙̭̭͕̜̈́̍͑͊͑͛̿̆̍̕͜͝͝ͅl̵͍̱̖̙͓̗̑̌͌̄̑̓̊k̷̙̥̖͎̆̾̆́̉̈́̓̂͒̃̊ ̵̨̧̥̪͚͓͍͚̰̘̻̩̮̾̇t̶̛̮̳͊̀̌͐͒̾̍̐̆̍̈͗͠ơ̵̰̫̓̓͆́̿̃̈͗̄͘͝͝ ̷̢͖̟͉̾̈́̉͗͗̈́̏̌͘̕̕͜͠h̵̳̓͐ĕ̶̛̦͙͎̪̻̿̄͐̀́͆͑́̐͝r̴̼͙̆̂̒͊̓̒ ̴͔̩̹̙̬̯̹̂̇̔̑̐̍̃̍̆͋̈́̃͝m̴̢̛̤̏̽͊͆͐͗͛͂͋͛̕͠͠o̴̘͔͔̬̽͑̄͘r̶̬͙͖͎̙͕̯͔͗̌̏̈́̀é̵̫̹͉͑̅̆͂͐̒̃͛̕.̶̣̼̥͊͐̔̾͑̽̓͗̄̓̅̏͝͝.̸̢̩̮͚̠̞̣̮̦̤͆̐͋̈́͐̂̾͛̒ͅ.̴̨̛̟͈̻̯̊̾</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I just wish my head would stop aching...</em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, everyone!" Monika announces, "It's just about time for us to leave. How did you all feel about sharing poems?"</p><p>"It was a lot of fun!" Sayori says with a smile. </p><p>"Well," Yuri eventually says, "I'd say it's worth it."</p><p>Natsuki huffs. "It was alright. Well, mostly."</p><p>Then, Monika turns to me. "Kaito, how about you?"</p><p>"...Yeah, I'd say the same. It was a neat thing to talk about with everyone."</p><p>"Awesome! In that case, we'll do the same thing tomorrow. And maybe you've learned something from your friends, too. So your poems will turn out even better!"</p><p>Well, I did learn a little more about everyone's preferred style of poetry...that might be helpful in the future.</p><p>.</p><p>W̷̹̣̲̯̄̂̈́i̸̡̺̖̣̲̎̽͊̂̄̾̋͝ẗ̷͕̪̽͌̊͌̒̌̈́͊̈́̚̕͠͝h̸̼̊̑͒̅̏̌͒̃̏ ̵͈͙̟̱͖̪͐̀̉̕̕͘͜ă̸̩̳̳͇͕̼̲̒̇̿̾͆̿̆͑̒͗̕͝ņ̵̢̲̩̠̻̪̩̲̰̄̇̈́̆y̸̛̱̜̲̣̙͉͒̈̎̀͊̇̈́̍̍͑̕͠͝ͅ ̶̬̩͙̣̘̩̙̖̝̤̲͖̥̓̓̎̄̀͜l̷̤̻̠̱̾̌̓̒̋̆̐͜u̴̢̧̬̩̝̤͖̥̞̭̥̩͓̣̬͗͊̊̋̅͘c̸̛̙̅̄͐̃́̑͆̓̏̆̅͘͠k̷̛̻͌͐̋̿̽̑͆̓̚̕̕͝,̵͚͉͚͖̟̯̼̭̺͈͛̋̽͂̔̑̍͑̓̑͠ ̴͖̭̽̄͌̃͑t̴̛̬̫̿͑̓̅͗͘h̸̢͕͔̪͈̮̳̅̒̌̋̆͆̎͊̐̒͘͘͝a̷͇̳̟̤̳̠̖̍̽͌̐̃̓̈́̅͂͝t̴̟̍ ̸̢̭͚̳̼͚̬͉̿̈́̅͗͌͋͊͒̊̉͒͒͘m̷̛̟̺̈̇̒̔̈́̇̄͗e̷̡̙̪̜͇̞̭͖̱̻͉̝̰͊̃͑̋̈́͝a̴̧̝̟͊̎͂̈́͜n̶̩̗̝͉͗̿̀͠s̸̯̜̱̬̰̖̠̒͆̃̑̎̅̋͑̓̆͒̏͠ ̷̢̬͉̮̝̥͍̦̰̘̝͗̿͑͂̈͑͠ͅͅI̸̧̡͈̼͚̦̫̺͈̩͈̽̓̾͋͜ ̸̪̲̖͓͕̙̭̺̂̀̏̋̃̓̄̔̑̏̆͒c̶̢̢͎͚̗̩̩͕̰̼̽̕͜a̶̯͈͍̭͔͚̺̹̳̭̟̝̬͋̇͛̋̇̾̑̆́̏̈́͑̃̏ṅ̸̤̹̯͖̠̱̣̭͙͙̱̥͍̭̎̏̄͝͠ ̶̝̣̮̖̮͎̕a̴̬̘̳̱̩͗̌͌̈́̽͊̅̒̿̎̕͝t̸̨̛̰͈͓̙͌̒̅͌̃̅̚̚͝͝ ̵̦͈͓̪̪͍̜̬͚̈́ļ̸̞͙͎͖̫̖̤͖̤̩̭̐̈́̆̋̆̈́̏̽́͘͝ͅe̴̞̣̟͓̭͇̰̅̇̓̏̒͂̌̔̏̒̽ͅå̵̩̇͗̑s̵̨̨̭͎̲̘̈́͑̋̀̿̂̑̅͊t̵̢̨̡̞͕̱͙͚̻͍͚̭̑͑̈́͗͂̔͂̌̒͗̚ ̷̤̬̌̅͊̕d̴̢̧̛͚̬͚̲̜̼͚͎͍͚̊̈̕o̴̻͇̲͉͍̫̮͈̤͉̖̹̓̓̕̚͜͜ ̶̢̯̜̯̗͚̙̻͓̍̃̃̈́͑́̕͝͝a̷̬̙̯̿ ̷͓̭̼̇͒̿̋̃̆̒͐͋̋͂̕͝͠b̷̧̡͙̮̠̜̟̠̲̖̘̬̮̋̍̈́͌̿̂̃̄̎̕̚ê̶̛͖̜͙̣̱̾̍͌͛̅̅̈́̌͐͘ť̸̗͔̫̿̐̍̌͋t̸̗͈̠̄̎̈́̉̃̐ȇ̶̢̨̡̨͕̻̲̫̠̪͍̐̃̊̎̌͑̋̕͜͝ŗ̴̡̛̪̙̭̜͙̞̳͉͉̗͆̄͒̈̑̚͝͝ ̷̧̰̫͊̌͠j̴̛̠͖̙̼̯̝̬̙̺̳̺̇͋͗̈́̒͐̐̏͆ͅo̶̝̖̹̲̜̿͑̈́b̴̩͖̓͛͋̾̉̑̃͘ ̵͕̥̯̭̣̦̱͊̀͗͌̌̅̿̀̓̏̚͠a̷̠̰̔͗̉͋́͐͊̕͝͠t̴̡̢͕̻̞̖͚̙̞̭̼̽͜ ̸̨̭̥͎͉̜̩͙̝̈́͆̆͛̅͒̋͗̒͋͘͘̚i̵̙̜̥͔̞̳̜̙̘̟͛̐̿̓͋̆̊̃͘͜m̵̪͍̮̘̮̻̙͙͓̰͖̋͑̏͛̃̐̈́̆̚͝͠p̴̡̛̥̫̞͙̥͈̞͓̩̜̣͇̦̏́͗̅̒̒̾͂̿́̄̊͠ͅr̸̺̤̿́ę̵̢͓̪̜̇͊̓s̶̨̢̹̪̝̫̹̥̞͚̱̊͋̐̈́͗̉̈̓͌̓͘͝s̷̘̉i̵̢̗͍͇̮̤̇́̈́́̈́̃̓n̸̨̪̰͇̩͖̲̙̾ġ̷̦̲̯̝̬͒̏̈̉̓͂̆̅͘ͅ ̷̲͔̗͚̜͈̗͊͊̓͒̔̈͌͂̃͝͠͝t̴̩̲́̿͑h̸͔͉̿̅̊̉̈́̓͒̑̕͝o̴̧̧̻̼̤̳̼̖̳̠̓̂͗̌̑͊̄̊̚͜͜͝ͅs̴͉̺̟͈̲͕̓͂͛̈́̍̏́͛͒͗̌̐͐̽ḙ̷̙͙̳̌̿̂̾̈̉́̄̽̃̿̿̓̀̕ͅ ̸̡̧̡̦̙͇̗̺̀̿͝I̵̛̮̘̫̪̱̲̣͙͂̍̍̄̂̍́̓̀̒̕͝ ̷̩͚̹̳̺͎͔̐͠ẅ̸̢͖͚̫͍̫̒̌͑̂̏̐̽ą̸͚̯̹̝̗̙̟͉̍͒̇̒̿̾͋ͅņ̷͈̭̖̳̟̘̰͈̻̹͕̘̰̀̑̊̃͐̈́̿̈̒̓̆͊̀͘̕t̵͙̟̮̟̗͕̟̅͒̔̉̿͌ ̷̛͔̻̤̹̹̠̬̜̉͒̋̎̂͌͌̒̂͘͝͝t̶͎̟̩̻̮̝͙̲͕̩͔͋͆͊̅̏̂̍̈́̾̌̊͝o̸̰͑͗̈͆͝ͅͅ ̸͚̰̞͔̟͍̝̟̬͔̰̣̈́̒̈́̍̏̆́̀̈̈̚̚̚͜͠ͅi̷̢̡͎̭̳̞̗̪͕̗̩̍̒͜͝ͅm̷̨̛͚͈̠̫̖̝̰͔̟̋̾̓̊̇͌͗̾̋̒̋p̷̘͌̈́̑̾̊̅́̿̄̍͊̈͊͠ṟ̵͓̮̟̹̖̪̜̃̈́̐̉̐͋͐̈́̄̿̋͊́͠e̷̡̙̹͊̈́̒̋̎̚s̵̺̲͍̺̗͖͎̪͛̇̃͊͜s̶̢̲̖̺̺͆̂͂̑̊͝.̵̨̢̨̣͚̼̞̜̹̜͎̔̾̀͂͋̓̃</p><p> </p><p>"Kaito, ready to walk home?"</p><p>"Sure, just let me grab my bag."</p><p>Sayori giggles, beaming at me. </p><p>It truly has been a while since Sayori and I have spent this much time together. </p><p>...I've missed her.</p><p> </p><p>On the way home, I can't help but mention, "Sayori...about what happened earlier..."</p><p>Sayori looks surprised. "Eh? What do you mean?"</p><p>"You know, between Yuri and Natsuki. Does that kind of thing happen often?"</p><p>"No, no, no!" Sayori says hurriedly. "That's really the first time I've seen them fight like that...I promise they're both wonderful people."</p><p>She then looks worriedly at me. "You don't...you don't hate them, do you??"</p><p>"No, I don't hate them!! I just wanted your opinion, that's all. I can see why they'd make good friends with you. Not to get all mushy, but you have a way of bringing people together."</p><p>Sayori blushes a little. "Phew. You know, Kaito, it's nice that I get to spend time with you in the club. But I think seeing you getting along with everyone makes me the happiest. And I think everyone likes you, too!"</p><p>I can feel my face flush. "That's-"</p><p>"Ehehe," Sayori giggles. "Every day is going to be so much fun!"</p><p>I let an over-dramatic sigh, linking my arm with her's. "If you say so."</p><p>"Don't be such a constant downer!" Sayori laughs, swatting at me with her free hand.</p><p> </p><p>I̸̢̛̖̘̹̞̫̥͎̥͇̞͕̳͛̄͆͒̒͋̀͘͠͝ţ̷̙͎̔̎̏͑͆̓͆̀̒̃͌͘̚͘ ̵̯͇̦̫͙̥͚̫̳̮̲̺͇͒̒͒̌̈́̋̀̕l̴̨̨͙̞̘̖̱̙͙̻̺̝͙͖̱̽̈͐̉̅ŏ̷̝̤̫̹̬͛ó̵̯̥̎͛̇̊́̏̒̅̉̎̚͘k̴̢̘̯̲̰͕̳̺̣̖̙̱̃̐̔̂̌̈̾̑͛͛͝͠s̴̖̈́̅̔̆̀̊̑́̃̎̈́̒͝ ̷̝̰͇͚̰̘̥͔̬͓͚̫̇͋͋̾́̃̐̈͐̍̈́̚͜ͅl̵̲̝̟̤͓͎̣̮̘̺̹̼͆̎i̸̛̝͕̐͒͑̇̀̂͂̚ǩ̸̛̻̾̒̈́̐̐̾͂͛̒̿̚ẹ̸̓͛̑̈́̏̓̒̽͗̕ ̶̨̧̛͙͔̙̙̯̬̱̻̘͔̂̈́̅̌̀̇̽̉̀͒͐̔̉S̶̨̨̘̤͇̫̘̱̰̳̈́̓̊͂̾̈́͆͒̿͗͠͝ą̶͖̠̼̻̠̟͎̞̌͒́̍̈́̉̈́͌̉͋̔̚ỷ̵̜͍̪̝̓̈́̿͗͒̐̅͊͐̀͜ơ̵͚̻̹͕̯̭̈́̐͋̑̽̀̂͘͝r̴̢̛̺̻̻̖̘͔̠̟̱̋̽̌̆̆͒͊̉́͊̕ǐ̶̛̪͕͇̝̟͚̣̩̱͖͋̊́͗͊̐ ̶̨̡̞̠̠̲̲̮̰͚̱̘͈̿̈́̆͛͘͝s̸̼͓͉̥̼̰͇̳̰̟̠̤̑͆̏̿͆͑͆͋̎̅̚͘͜t̵̢̡̬͙̭͖̘̱͚̳̝̮͕̍̉̒̈͛̔̾̇͑̿͊͜į̶̦͇̩̠̝̯̖̥͙̱̩̰̓̑̿̓̑̉̒̚l̴̗̬̟̟̠̺͇͂͘l̵̢̘̣̱̼̯̲̦͗̎ ̴̧͉̺̦̊̅̓̎͂̓̒́͊̓h̶̡̨̗͇̞͎͍̙͈̹̖͔̺̼͐͌͊̏͊̂̈̽͘̚͝͠a̸̱͈͓͖̣̱͖̙͉̥̖̫̟̚͘͠s̷̡̡͇̤̼͔̰̰̜̪̘̖̲̒̆͜n̵̞̭̳̙͉̅̎͋͗̐̃̽͛̈̚͘͘͜͝'̸͉͇̀͛̆t̵̙̟̜͆̔͛̅̅͑͛̌̇ ̸̨͇͍̲̻̯̦͈̈́̑̈́̎͊̑͝͝͠ç̶̡̳̙͇̳̩͙̣̖̱͉̞͎̊͂͋͌̂̕͘à̶̗̯̩͉͕̯̞̳̤̦̖̫̓̏̈́̊́̋̚͘͜ų̷̬͙̮̥͍̦̥̹̹̤̱͓̞͋̈́͆͌̊̀̉̚͘͝͠ͅģ̶̡̡̬̦̻͖̱͓͖̬̹͍̗̊̽̎̊̾h̸̬̐̈́͐͑̋̄̋̀͒̇͌̍̋͠͠t̶̨̢͎̥̤͙̮̪͇̫̗̽̂͊̒̍̊̓̏͗̃̒̂̋̚ ̴̛̛͎̞̳̰̞̦̗̳͓̪̘̻͛̐̒̉̉̓̋̍̈͝͝ơ̶̢̧̪̍̔n̵̡͔̹̦̼̻̦̻̯̥̥͈̈́̐̉̊̈̐̚ẗ̴̹͓̩͔̬̀o̴̘̘̖̻̤̹͔̰͆̈́̅͛͂̄ ̴̼̘̫̗̻͎͂̅̔̄̌͘͝ț̶̡̢͓̪̰͓̉̎̀̋͒̎̔̊̀̈́ͅh̶̡̛͈̳̘͋͆͆̀̄̿͠ȩ̵̨̫͎͔̂̑̀̋̈́̔̃̊͠͝ͅ ̴̘̼̘̩̘̹̗̮̽͒͘͜s̸̲̟̰̳͛̽̃͆̚i̷̛̻̞̟̬̹͕̥͍̭̰̓͛̾̄͐͠t̷̢̼̣̭͉̮̥̰̦̖̼̗̤͍̭͛̓u̴̢̝̲͍̺͚̳̮̦͖̽̂̓̊̇̈̇̍͂͝ą̶̪̞͈̝̟̭̺̯̙̱̘̬̈̎͂͛̈̚t̷̝̜̮̰̹͚̳̱͇̻͔̯̟̊́̽͋͘ḯ̵̻̖̎̓͋͌̍͑̇́̊̈̅̎ŏ̵̺͉͖̟̼͔̩͍̐͋̈́̾n̴̢̥͌̆̆̽͗̒̏͊̇̒̑̽͊̒ ̷̨̺͓͇̰͍̽͋̃͊̓͂̏͘I̵̧̛̛̛̩̝͖̞̒́̈́̈́̋͛'̸͉̫͕͈̮̽̎̂̎̔̉͑͛̀͊̆͗͝m̵̛̬̮͚͙͔̣͌̌͒̿͐͂̋͑͘͠͝ͅͅ ̵̨̢̛̛̹͚̓̇̄͋̾̎̒̔̑̊́͐͠i̴̬̯̲̳̘̬͊́̑̄̒̇͌̾̈̕ͅn̸̡̡͈̬̖͉̱̩̠̬̲͐̓̌̈́̅̈́̐̑̿̆͒̿̚.̴̡̡̧̯̭̭̘͚̫̼͎̐͋̽͂̈́̅̆͐͊̈̇͋̚<br/>̶̨̝͐̄̊́̈́̈̀̑̓Ŝ̸̺͌́͌̅̕ͅư̴̢̢̻̬̤͉̜̳̜̠̳̼̯͐̊̈̋ͅȓ̷̡̜̦̗͖͓̦̲̫̹̬̣̺̲̾̈́̌͋̉͑͆̓̋̎̕ͅe̷͕̦̦̣̐̈́̂,̴̨̖̠̲̣͚̞̫̪̖͈̥͉̀̿ ̶̙̂̐̽͂b̷̨̢̡̝̮̝͈̹̞̖̤̙̒͋̊̅ͅͅė̴͈̹̦̼̪̹̫̗̪̅̌̌͂̊̇͒͆͆͠i̴̡̧̨̯̹̱͚̜̱̗̗̰͇̫̓̎̍̎̎͐̚ͅņ̸̯̘̗̮̣̳̻͂̍̽̋͂̉͊̐̓̚̚g̷̨̡͇͔͇̠̩͍̙͙̼̀̑͒͌̋̉̕͜͠͝ ̴̛̛̪̼̯͎͈̖͈̪̙̠̆͋͊͌̂͝͝ͅf̶̪͎̽̕ͅr̷̖̙̤̞̱͑̄̊̍͠į̴̧̲̤͙̯̯̖͈͂̊̑̐͆̊̓̽̄̽̔̇̋͛͝ė̸̹̤̳̖̱̻̺̹̯̤̓̓̈́̂ͅn̷̨̨̻̩̆̏̈́͋͂̽̓̍̉d̸̨̛̝͎͛͌͌̌͑̽s̵̛̱̜̪̙̘͕͖͗͒̂͂̎́̌̈́̃̈́͝͠ ̷̨̨̯̪̲̝̼̩͓̠̲̇̏͑̚w̵̛͕͔͇͎̲͓̠̯̮̲̬̫̫̿̅̃͜ͅĭ̸̢͓̯̻͖͇͔͇̜̤̪̹͆̑̉͂͗̾̒̓̚͜͠ͅt̸̨̢̛͖͙͓̤̖̖̙͈̣̪̮͔̄͌̿̒̏̅̂͗̓̑̈́̊̚h̸̢̧̞̮̣̖̤̺͍́̌ ̷̜̿͋̿̍͝ḛ̷̙̗͈̰͋͐̈̂̚v̷̡̛̱̪̰͈̹̫͍̪͍̝̜̆͐̏̉͘͝ḛ̴̬̠̯͎̰̏͆͒̽̒̈́̂̎͆͌̓͘͝͠͠ŗ̷̼̜̳͎̹̗̼̠̪̥̭̺̽ͅy̴̩̹̩͈͕͂̔͂͛́o̵̟̓̿́̈́͌͑͐͠͠n̵̘̾͂̒͒͊̿̕e̸͙̬̹̥̾͋̈́͗̄̑͗̏̑͋͌̏͌ͅͅ ̴͔͒̅̋͑̓̊̈́͜í̵͇̐̈̀̃͊̅̓̚š̸̹̱̪̔͋͛̽ ̷̫͎̯͓̮̱̒̑̓̈̈͝͠ṅ̶̦͚̻̯͖̦͙̘̝̖͑̐̂͒̏̈́̒̆̕͝͝î̶̧̟̜̺̳̞͇̫̙c̵̛̝͉͖̞̲̙̾͐͂͌̋ͅe̶͍̖̖̋̌̒̋͌̀͋̆̑̈́͋̚͘,̵̢̞̹͎͎͎̻̼̭̽̒̽̉̍̿̓̉̊̎̀̊̊͝ ̷͈̠͕̓̑̿͌̎̒͗b̵̧̙̖̭͍͖̤̦̳̠̹̋̆͛̀̉̕ư̷͇̲͂́̈͑̏̅̌͂͒͘ͅt̷̛̘̮͍͙̳̠̤̖̦͍̘̝̑̄̽́͂̍͛̋̎͂͊͗̚.̸̪̽͜.̸̖͇̻̾̎̑̅͂̔͑͗̾͑̌̄̈͘.̶̭̼͙̝͉̝̙͒̋͋ͅͅ<br/>̵̛̭̻̉̍͋͒͊̎͑́̆̕͘͠͠.̷̧̨̧̠͙̺͔̐̅̈́̌̇̏̀̓̉.̵̨̯͉̼̳̥̫͎̔̎̓͌̎̉̔͑̃̔̎̄̊͝͝ͅ.̶̧̡̗̮̗̟̘͇͙̖̟̠̑̇̈́͌̐̈́̋̎̇̽̿D̸̘͇̣̰̗͊͌̆̾̈́͘ȯ̷͓̭̥̰̳̘̜͌̍̓e̴̘̦̟͙̥̲̹͇̣͆̒̑̆̇̔͒̎͆͠ş̶̠̭͈͙̠̹̫̺̗̻̥̔̐̅̈́̎̃ͅ ̴̢̣͚̻͉͉̩̯̇̎̄̓̑̒̑̋͝į̶̨͚̝̳̼͖͖̯̂͗̈́̓̅͒̏̀̌̒͘t̸̨̛̮̹̰̺̝̥̊͂͌̌̽͆̾͐̌̚͝ ̴̭͔̲̩̹̼͎̪̤̥͖̆͂̿̅͒̓͊̅͘̕r̴̮͔͉̳̱̗̠͈͉̊̂͂̉͒̃͗̐́e̴͕̰̘͇͂͂͛a̸̹̒̀͂̈́͊̕l̶̡̜̪̹̪̭̪̞̖͒̈́̍͊́͐̔̋͘͝͝l̶̛̖̦͗̏̈́̾̌̔̈̂̊͘͜ÿ̸̢̨̱͇̝̜̖͚̗͈́͛̈͗̾́ ̸̨͔̳̣̗̙͓̯̜͈͖̺̹̊̈́͗̅͒̍̔͐͂̾̾̚͠n̴̡̠̪̭̹͖̗͔̫̗̹̓̐̔̄̓͑̉̎̂̉̀̒̚ͅe̶̬͙͈̟̳͇̤͎̳̮̹̯̣̍͌̑̔̌͑́̒̏̂̚͜͜e̶̛̛̛̪͚͙̎͑͒̈́̅̂͌̇͝ḑ̵̛̳̬͉̳̥̼͖͑̾̌͛̓̈̍̈́͛̚ ̸̛̦͓̣͔̰̃̀͋̇̆̂͑̃͆̆̉̆̈́ͅt̶̢̧̳͓͎̰̗͔̼͈̜͈̘̑̓̏̈̀̈̑̈̍͜͝͠o̶̧̧̝̗͆͂̈́ ̴̨̢̠̻͙̞̲̳͎̝͎͍͚͋̿͜͠ṣ̵̘̟̈́̄̉̄̍̇̌͗̐̋͘͝͝t̷̢͍̘̠͇̱̰̳͆̓͘͝͝o̸͎̫̅̾̃̇̕ͅp̶̡̛͈̩͉͚̲̼̜̝̠̓͠͠ͅ ̴̨̡̟͇̼̌̑t̵̢̡̥̪͈͓̥̹͠h̴͇̞͕̼͛̅͋̌̒̅ë̵̳̬̱͓͈̩͔̹͕̾̈͐͂͐̉̒̚͜͝r̷̢̞̪̯̺͔̯̭̜̾̈́̎̾͋̈́́͂͜͝ͅȅ̸̘̠̱̖̞̃̃̓̒̉̾͐͜͠͠?̴̢̨̘̘̤̞̘͕͎̜̉̆̓̊̅</p><p> </p><p>"We'll see what the future holds, Sayori," I say. "In the meantime, I think I'm going to have to take a nap when I get back home. My head is starting to hurt."</p><p>"Okay! Remember to take some aspirin and drink lots of water!"</p><p>"Will do."</p><p>
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